


Bitter Ash

by JazzBaby466



Category: Dublin Murder Squad Series - Tana French
Genre: Abortion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 20:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5884054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzBaby466/pseuds/JazzBaby466
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As we all know, Rob's night with Cassie had more consequences than Rob ever knew. </p><p>This story is about Cassie's ferry ride to England and back. About the wall that separated her from everyone else. And about the time Sam broke through that wall, took her home and made her stew. </p><p>Tana covered it all in a few paragraphs. I wanted a bit more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitter Ash

It took me embarrassingly long to catch on. For a few weeks, I honestly thought it was just the stress making me late. God knows that’s happened to me before.  
When it finally clicked, it felt like falling straight on your back from a great height and getting the air sucker-punched from your lungs, lying there, desperately trying to take in air that your compressed chest has no room to hold. I wondered later why I only bought myself a single pregnancy test instead of three or four, to be sure. I think the answer is: I only needed one. In my heart, I already knew.  
I never for one moment considered keeping it. If things had been different with Rob… maybe I would have at least thought about it; I honestly don’t know. But at that point, all the bridges had been burned and I was left all by myself, sitting in a pile of ash. I had transferred to DV, he had been dumped in paperwork hell somewhere, and the Murder days, walking shoulder to shoulder on the job and staying up late talking on my sofa when we were off duty, already seemed far away, unreachable. Of course, I could have picked up the phone and talked to him any day, but that didn’t even occur to me. He’d made his position quite clear.  
I remember sitting on the edge of my bathtub in my flat, staring out of my window into the grey mist outside, the test with the tiny red cross still in my hand, and waiting for the awful sinking feeling to go away. After a while, I realized that wasn’t going to happen and forced myself to get up.  
It was a Thursday, so I had the next day to make a few calls and the weekend to do what I had to do. Nobody would have to know. I’d be like all those other girls, huddled up with scarfs and hats on the ferry deck, looking out at the water empty-eyed. Sneak out in the morning, back at night. Just a short trip. Nobody’s business but mine.  
For a moment, I considered taking the plane. Then I realized what that would entail: sitting squished between two strangers, unable to move or hide. I knew then that the plane wasn’t an option.  
Saturday morning, I got up before the break of dawn. There was no point in delaying it any longer. It wasn’t like I was going to change my mind.  
It was a sleety day. Too cold for rain, too warm for snow, an uncomfortable, messy in-between. I bought my ticket just when the first few rays of sunlight were breaking through the clouds. Waiting for the departure, I turned up my collar against the cold. It barely helped. I’d been feeling cold for weeks now and it never really seemed to go away. Before, it was usually Rob who was cold and me who wasn’t. During nights, I’d be the one to open a window for fresh air and he’d be the one to pull his sleeves over his hands demonstratively until I rolled my eyes at him and closed it.  
Little details like this were constantly popping into my head. Just a few weeks before, I’d been with him almost 24/7. Now, his absence felt like a hollowness, a black hole I was constantly drawn towards, a change as unsettling and painful as losing a limb. The next day was a Sunday. I’d probably spend it in my bed, because honestly, I couldn’t imagine a single thing that might be worth getting up for. I wondered if Rob would drive to his parent’s home and if maybe they would ask about me. I’d always got on well with his parents and it was always obvious that his mum was hoping for us to turn into more than just friends. I realized suddenly that I would probably never see them again, and the sense of loss intensified.  
The ferry finally left and as I watched the coast of Ireland disappear and the sea rise up in front of it, a strange sensation took hold of me. Somehow, I felt like I was going away for more than a day. The echo of all those who had gone off to England during past centuries reached me from somewhere across the water: nervousness and fear and grief, but above all: hopefulness. I’d always been content in Ireland. It had always been clear to me that I would live there till my final breath. But suddenly, I had an idea what those nidifugous people might have felt. There’s great power in leaving a country behind. It gives you hope that maybe you could leave other things behind, too.  
During the journey, I walked up and down the deck of the boat. I thanked myself for deciding against the airplane. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had been forced to sit. I kept my arms wrapped tightly around myself, stared into the water and took small, but steady steps. Up and down. Up and down.  
There was another girl I’d noticed when the ferry took off. Half of her face was hidden behind a large wool scarf, but the half you could see still showed you how young she was, no older than I had been when I’d been at Trinity. She had one hand close to her belly at all times, but not quite touching it, which told me all I needed to know. For a bizarre second, I considered walking up to her and starting a conversation. Then, I realized that I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.  
Lately, I’d had trouble keeping up normal conversations. I felt like there was some kind of barrier between me and everyone else, like a glass wall, and although I could hear them talk, I couldn’t understand the words. Although I could see their faces and gestures, I couldn’t work out what they wanted from me. Those days, it took all I had to say the right things back instead of just turning my back on them and walking away from all the senseless jabbering.  
I saw the girl get off the boat in England, though. She looked lost and I remember briefly hoping that she would find the right way.  
A few hours later, it was already over. The procedure itself wasn’t exactly pleasant, but I’d been prepared for much worse. It was strange, that change: walking into a room with that seed, that possibility in you, then walking back out empty.  
I waited for the anticipated feeling of relief to wash over me, but it never came. The black hole only felt bigger than before.  
On the way back, I wasn’t pacing up and down the deck anymore. I just stood at the ship’s rail, looking at the water’s surface which stretched all the way to the horizon. The sleet was coming down harder now. Soon, my clothes were soaked with frozen rain and my hair was dripping. I could have cried then. My face was already wet. It wouldn’t have made a difference and nobody would have seen it, but I didn’t. I’ve never been the crying type.  
As expected, I spent Sunday in bed. At some point, I got up and made myself something to eat. It was pasta. Rob always said how pasta was the only thing I could cook. That made me think of those evenings at my house, during Operation Vestal, how we had eaten together and then talked for hours. The black hole opened wider. Quickly, I finished my food and went back to bed. 

On Monday, the next day, I had a coffee date with Sam. After I’d transferred to DV, we’d kept in touch. At first, I’d mostly said Yes to be polite, but then I realized how good it felt to talk to him. He was one of the few people whose voice didn’t make me want to clasp my hands over my ears and scream ‘Go away!’  
Soon, he was the only thing that still felt real.  
The last time we’d met, he’d told me all about the new department gossip (some new kid had apparently got a bollocking from O’Kelly, because he’d almost thrown away a piece of evidence that he personally had mistaken for, quote, a piece of rubbish, unquote, and the lads had given him grief about it all week), and I’d ended up feeling a lot more light-hearted than I had in weeks. That had happened before I’d found out I had to go to England, though. Now, after the weekend I’d had, all I felt was empty and dead inside. When Sam walked into the café, I sat hunched, my hands clasped tightly around a steaming cup of tea, and his eyes widened noticeably in concern when he spotted me.  
“Cassie”, he said when he reached me. “Are you alright, yeah?”  
I looked up at him slowly, feeling endlessly tired, and nodded. “Hi, Sam. Yeah, I’m okay.”  
He frowned, not convinced, but went to order a coffee. Then, he told me about his day and updated me on the new Murder kid. I managed nods and weak smiles occasionally, which was really all I was capable of, but I wasn’t fooling him. After a while, Sam interrupted himself mid-sentence, set down his cup and looked at me, those big eyes thoughtful and caring. He said: “You look like you’ve the flu; it’s going around. I’ll bring you home, will I?”  
I didn’t have the strength to argue. On the way to his car, I accidently leaned against him a few times. Suddenly, I was feeling dizzy and overwhelmed.  
“Hey”, he said gently and guided me towards the car. “It’s alright, now. I’m bringing you home.”  
Sam knew the way to my apartment. He’d been there enough during Operation Vestal. After the car had stopped, he paused for a moment, looked at me, then reached out and put a hand to my cheek, big and comforting. “We better get you into bed”, he murmured, and we went upstairs.  
The apartment was a mess, but Sam was either too distracted to notice, or, much more likely, too tactful to comment. “Why don’t you go change and lay down?”, he suggested warmly.  
I had no idea how I’d ended up in this situation. I remembered greeting Sam cheerfully at this very door, a dishtowel in one hand and a spoon in the other, with Rob calling my name from the kitchen. (“Cass, what is going on with that sauce? Come back here and clean up your mess!” “Jesus, Rob, two seconds alone in there and you turn my lovely food into a disaster? Impressive, even for you!”)  
Now, I was just standing there, uncertain and other-directed like a child. When Sam pointed towards my bedroom encouragingly, I didn’t know how to object anymore. Besides, lying down seemed like a great idea. I was shivering again, like I had on the deck of the ferry with icy slush running down my face, and Sam said: “Come on, Cassie, go on. Are you hungry? I’ll go out and buy some food, cook you something nice, yeah?”  
I nodded. “Okay.”  
He smiled and it made me feel a bit warmer.  
“Could I take your keys, maybe, so I don’t have to ring the doorbell and wake you up again, in case you fall asleep?”, he suggested.  
“Um, sure”, I said and handed him my keys.  
“Great, thanks. I’ll be back soon”, he announced. “Okay”, I said again, then went into my bedroom, where I put on pyjama pants and an oversized T-shirt, and crawled into bed. I had warmed up a bit, by the time I heard the key turn in the lock. I stayed put while Sam rummaged around in the kitchen as quietly as he could. He’d washed and put away my dishes many times by now. He knew where everything was.  
A little later, he knocked on the door quietly.  
“Come in”, I said, and he walked in, carrying a steaming bowl that immediately filled the room with a pleasant, homely smell.  
I sat up in bed and he handed me the bowl.  
“It’s beef stew”, he explained. “Just like my mammy used to make for us.”  
I smiled at him and inhaled the wonderful smell. “Thanks, Sam.”  
He returned the smile and sat down on the edge of my bed. “Sure. I just want you to feel better.”  
As expected, the stew was wonderful. It was the rich, hearty kind of food that somehow, in spite of the circumstances, warms you from the inside and makes you feel as if everything will turn out to be okay in the end.  
“Thank you, Sam”, I said, after I’d finished, and he took the empty bowl from my hands. “That was perfect.”  
I could see his eyes light up at that. “Great”, he said. “That’s great. I’m glad I could help a bit. How are you feeling now? Is there anything else I can do for you?”  
I watched him for a moment. I had spent so much time with him during Operation Vestal. Sure, Rob and I had stuck together like conjoined twins during the whole bloody thing, but now that I was thinking about it, Sam had been near me for a majority of the time, too. Suddenly I realized how much I’d missed that.  
He noticed the look on my face and cocked his head quizzically. “What?”  
I didn’t know how to articulate the sudden rush of affection I felt for him, so instead I mumbled “Nuthin’”, yawned and pulled the covers back over me.  
Sam seemed to perceive this as his cue to leave. I caught his quick glance at the door, but still, when he asked whether there was anything else he could do for me, I knew the question was genuine. The thought of him leaving and taking all the warmth and peacefulness he’d brought into my apartment with him, filled me with dread, so quickly I said: “Sam. Tell me about when you were little.”  
He looked surprised for a moment, then laughed gently and settled more comfortably on the bed again. It wasn’t a new question. During our Operation Vestal late-night talks, when we’d finally made that transition from business to personal, Sam had often told us about his childhood. He’d grown up in Galway with a number of siblings, and Rob, an only child, and me, an only and an orphan, had always been fascinated by those idyllic country stories.  
“Alright. Which story do you want to hear?”, Sam asked me kindly.  
I pulled my knees toward me, until I was curled up in a ball, and replied: “Any story. Anything that just popped into your head about those days.”  
“Anything? Hm…” Sam looked out the window and thought about that for a while, until he said, in that pleasant, deep voice: “I remember one time, we were playing hide and seek outside in summer. My brother and I teamed up looking for the others…”  
“Which one?”, I mumbled.  
“Huh? Oh… It was Killian.”  
I was starting to learn the names of Sam’s siblings, and I liked that, because it helped me form mental images of them. I remembered him mentioning his brother Killian before. The two of them had been particularly close.  
“Anyway, we were looking for the others, and we found most of them easily enough. I mean, the younger ones were giggling, so you just had to follow the sounds, really. Cara took us a while, though, if I remember correctly. She was older and really clever and she actually hid in a treetop. Can you imagine? We searched the ground all over, Killian and I did, but we didn’t think to look up. At some point she called us eejits from up there and put us out of our misery. By that time, it was getting late and we thought we better get inside. We weren’t scared of strangers or anything like that. Honestly, I don’t think it ever occurred to us that anybody out there might want to harm us, you know? Times were different back then. Nobody was scared for their kids the way people are these days. Do you remember, Cassie?”  
I’d lived with my aunt and uncle then, who had both been fairly scared for me a lot of the time. Still, I knew what he meant, so I only made a non-committal noise to get him to keep talking.  
“It’s just that tea was probably ready and we didn’t want to keep our mammy waiting. So we went into the house, and then we were eating and Cara was still going on about her brilliant hiding place and poking fun at Killian and me for not finding her earlier, when our mammy got that focused look on her face and started counting us. Then she asked ‘Where’s Emmy?’ Emma, do you remember her name? Well, we used to call her Emmy back then. She was such a sweet thing, bless her.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “We realized she was missing and our mammy asked did we know where she might be. We said we’d been playing hide and seek and she was probably still hiding.” He laughed quietly. “We weren’t worried, like. It’s like I said, times were different back then. We just started laughing at the fact that she was probably still waiting to be found, and went outside. Normally, we had these strict rules about leaving the table during dinner time, but now we just all got up as one unit and went outside. It was a warm night. There were all kinds of animals out. Nights are different out there, do you know what I mean? It’s loud, sure, but not like in the city. It’s much more peaceful. Anyway, finally one of us, I don’t remember who, found her in the stables. She was curled up on the hay in one of the empty boxes and she’d fallen asleep. We laughed and woke her up, and Emmy – keep in mind, she was a little thing back then, no older than four – she just sat up, looked around and said: ‘Took you long enough.’”  
I could feel a smile spread on my face. “Tell me another one”, I mumbled sleepily.  
Sam touched my shoulder gently, then got up. “I will. Tomorrow. You should sleep now, Cassie. That’ll help you feel better.”  
I opened my eyes and looked at him. It was as if he’d seen the question in my expression, because he said: “I’ll be back tomorrow”, and added: “With more food. Because it’s obvious you can’t properly feed yourself, detective.”  
I chuckled. “Alright, then. Detective.”  
He grinned at me, said “Feel better, Cassie” and left.  
Like he’d promised, he was back the next night. And the one after that. And the one after that.  
The black hole was still there, pulling my thoughts towards it, diminishing my strength. The hollow emptiness was still there and the painful thoughts of Rob.  
But there was something in the look of Sam’s eyes that made me think of the islands of Hawaii, with their volcanoes and their vibrant green and their flowers in all sorts of exciting colours. At one point, lava had rolled over everything like a fiery avalanche and taken all life with it. But then, when the last flakes of black ash had settled on the ground, they were what made the ground fertile again, and all that blackness and destruction paved the way for new things to grow.


End file.
